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beatingtheouijaboardallegations · 9 months

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i love you nonspeakers. i love you nonverbal people.

i love you nonverbal people who prefer to be called nonverbal. i love you nonspeaking people who prefer to be called nonspeaking. i love you nonspeaking nonverbal people who tired of debate about terminology or can’t keep up with it and just want be heard and communication rights respected.

i love you people who not speak ever since birth ( hi! ). i love you people who use to speak but experience regression / catatonia / burnout or with degenerative physical disabilities. i love you nonspeaking nonverbal people with acquired disabilities.

i love you multimodal communicators. i love you people with complex communication needs. i love you apraxic people who are unreliably speaking. i love you minimally verbal people. i love you semiverbal people. i love you speaking people with selective mutism with intermittent speech ( who listen to us and not speak over )

I love you nonspeaking nonverbal autistic people. i love you nonspeaking / nonverbal people with other intellectual & developmental disabilities. i love you nonspeaking / nonverbal people with apraxia / dyspraxia ( full body or apraxia of speech ) . I love you nonspeaking nonverbal people with brain injury with stroke with aphasia with genetic disorders. i love you nonspeaking / nonverbal people with mental health disabilities that affect language ( eg schizophrenia ) .

I love you AAC users. I love you users of text based AAC. I love you users of picture based AAC. I love you users of low tech AAC. I love you people who can’t afford the big expensive robust systems and rely on free apps or low tech for that reason. I love you people who need small grid size. I love you people who need visual accommodations to AAC like high contrast. I love you people who need alternate access like switch , eye gaze , head track , joystick , partner assisted scanning to make AAC accessible. I love you nonspeaking / nonverbal people who use sign languages. I love you PECS users. I love you letter board users. I love you people who need human support to use AAC , people who use methods like FC and RPM and S2C and all the “ discredited ” method that are constant at risk of being take away from you.

I love you nonspeaking nonverbal people who haven’t found a way to communicate with words that works for them yet. i love you people who communicate mostly or entirely with behavior with gesture with pointing with vocal sounds not words. i love you people who only way communicate is what the system calls “challenging behavior.” I love you people who communicate through violent meltdown, who SIB and hurt others , run away unsafely , destroy property etc and who are punish institutionalize incarcerate or other abused oppressed instead of helped find other way to communicate. i love you nonverbal nonspeaking people who won’t ever see this post, who under institution control or informal more subtle control and don’t have access to social media , or who disability make social media hard , or who just don't like / have interest in being on here (was me for a while !)

I love you nonverbal and nonspeaking people who have found a home in the nonverbal / high support need community on here and who feel like experience is represent. i love you nonverbal and nonspeaking people who have found a home in offline AAC / nonspeaking world like CommunicationFirst and the spellling to communicate conferences. I love you nonverbal and nonspeaking people who not find their " home " in the disability / nonverbal nonspeaking community yet , who not see own experience represent anywhere.

i love you nonspeakers of color. i love you nonspeaking nonverbal queer and trans people. i love you physically disabled nonspeaking / nonverbal people. i love you mentally ill / Mad nonspeaking nonverbal people. i love you poor nonspeaking nonverbal people. i love you nonspeaking / nonverbal people not from global north.

i love you nonverbal people. i love you nonspeaking people. we are great and we deserve to be heard.

#sorry if post sound bias / prioritizing nonspeaking term over nonverbal by writing it first or sometimes forget write both #prefer nonspeaking and instinct is write first but both equally good!#institution mention #long post #nonspeaking #nonverbal #semiverbal #autism #i/dd #disability #lav talkz

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transsextual · 1 year

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butch, elle emerson (@transsextual)

#speak #writes #this was mostly an exericse in alliteration and kennings . both of which i love sooo very much. and also in thinking about lav :)

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maxcuntstappen · 2 months

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maxiel + you asked me to join your friends for a game of beach volley but we have very different ideas on how serious it is

Max has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from cussing as he watches Daniel's body fall atop the glittering ground.

Usually, the sight would bring so much fucking joy to Max.

All of Daniel's golden skin on show, grains of sand stuck to his tattoos, the biggest smile on his face, his laughter louder than the waves.

Usually.

But right now?

Right now, Max wants to kick his boyfriend's shin and tell him to get his shit together.

Instead, Max shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose, focusing on the smell of summer air and the taste of salt on his lips.

When he opens his eyes, he feels better. Ready to move on and have a jolly good time at a casual, friendly, FUN game of beach volleyball.

His resolve lasts for exactly one more shot. One more shot that Daniel fucking misses because he is trying to pirouette like a goddamn fucking ballerina while reaching for the ball.

"OKAY!" Max says, perhaps a touch too loud based on how Daniel, Oscar and Lando freeze, "We need a time out. I need a drink."

Max, in fact, very much does not need a drink. But he will use the reason to get the others to nod and agree.

They start moving to their little island of towels and water bottles and iPhones.

Max tugs harshly at Daniel's arm, making him come to a stop.

"Ow," Daniel whines, exaggerated and loud (and adorable but that is not on the forefront of Max's find right now).

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Max hisses, trying very, very hard to keep his volume in check.

Daniel looks equal parts taken aback and really confused.

He scrunches up his nose and eloquently replies with a, "Huh?"

It's cuter than it has any business being.

And any other time, Max would've kissed his nose before covering his entire face with many more.

But as he said, not at the forefront.

"We are losing at fucking volleyball to two of the least sporty people on the grid," Max says, hand still gripping Daniel's arm.

Daniel still doesn't catch up, only saying, "Uhhhhh."

Max rolls his eyes, dropping Daniel's arm to pinch his side.

"Ow, Max! What the fuck!" Daniel exclaims, a frown on his face.

Daniel reaches out to poke at Max's belly. But Max saw it coming so he simply steps back, leaving Daniel thrusting his finger through the air.

"Daniel," Max says, voice stern and serious, "I will not lose at fucking beach volleyball to those two twinks, you hear me?"

Daniel's eyes widen, and it seems like he's finally getting with Max's programme.

And then he keels over, body folded in half, arms wrapped around his stomach as he lets out his stupid, stupid, beautiful, gorgeous laugh.

"Max," he pants, before dissolving into a fit of guffaws again.

Max huffs, pissed at being laughed at and pissed that the sight of Daniel's laugh still makes his belly flutter even if he's the one being laughed at.

"Max," Daniel repeats, pushing through his heaving breaths, "Are you seriously pouting because we aren't winning at a fucking game of beach volley against our very dear friends, Oscar and Lando, who also, by the way, are very much not trying hard to even properly play and are only using the game as a way to bump into each other and feel each other up?"

Max's face flushes. It sounds silly when Daniel says it like that.

But it's not silly.

It's serious.

"Daniel," Max frowns, "It's of course very embarrassing if we are losing if they, as you say, are not even trying. I will not lose to them, Daniel. I will not."

Daniel chuckles, much softer this time, his hand coming to brush against Max's cheek, always so gentle.

"Okay, Maxy," he says, "Okay. We won't lose, okay? I promise."

Max nods, finally able to exhale a sigh of relief.

"Okay."

Max and Daniel win all the following matches.

Lando and Oscar don't seem to give a single fuck, all caught up in their own bubble of flirting jabs and not-so-quick kisses.

Max does give a fuck though. In fact, he gives several fucks.

And he makes sure to show his gratitude for Daniel's brilliant performance as his teammate by spending a couple hours on his knees that night.

#shorter than the other one LETS GO IM GETTING THERE #this was so so fun to write thank u anon im happy #maxiel #lav's ficlets #f1 fic #Daniel ricciardo #max verstappen

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greenieflor · 1 year

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Demisexual!Steve is everything to me so have some of whatever this is

Steve didn’t really get the appeal of sex. He never had. It was fine in middle school, he would laugh at the stupid jokes Tommy H made and parrot back some version of his own, not quite understanding what he was saying. That didn’t matter, though; it made people laugh and clap him on the back. Then they got to high school. Tommy and Carol had been together “long enough to ask her, dontcha think?” Steve didn’t quite know what Tommy was going to ask her, but figured it didn’t hurt to agree. Now, Steve wasn’t stupid, he knew what sex was. At least, in the abstract. When he had asked his parents at age nine where babies come from, all he got was an “ask your mother” and a “oh you’ll find out when you’re older.” His health class sputtered through a quick, and frankly kinda gross, biological explanation and that was it. So yes, Steve knew what sex was, he just didn’t get the appeal. He figured one day, when he was married he would have sex- he did want six kids after all. But outside of some future marriage, Steve really couldn’t be bothered to care about sex.

As high school progressed, Steve went on more and more dates. He enjoyed flirting and was pretty damn good at it. He learned to be good at other things, too. How to unhook a bra in one move, where to kiss a girl’s neck to make her go wild, even learned how to like having sex. But despite the growing number of notches in his bedpost (and his growing reputation as a bit of a slut) Steve Harrington still didn’t get it. Until he met Nancy Wheeler. With Nancy, it was different. It took them a little longer to fall into bed together, Steve was surprised at how much he wanted it with her. He had never actively wanted to sleep with someone like this, and it had never taken so long for it to happen. When they did sleep together, Steve finally understood. He got what people meant when they talked about sex. Up until this point he had enjoyed it, sure, it felt good and was kinda fun, but he hadn’t felt the desire, the emotional release that came with sex. After the dust had settled from Nancy breaking up with him, Steve figured he had cracked the code. He started taking more time with the girls he went out with, waiting until the third or fourth date to take them to bed. It just wasn’t the same though. He felt like he was back at square one, just going through the motions, except now he knew how good it could be. He knew how great it could feel and he just didn’t understand why he couldn’t get that back. He graduated, got the job at Scoops Ahoy, and soon after meeting Robin thought that maybe, just maybe, he had found it again. That feeling of wanting. But it wasn’t quite the same. There wasn’t that same heat when he looked at Robin. After their conversation on the bathroom floor he knew why. He loved her, maybe more than he’d ever loved anyone, but it wasn’t the same as when he loved Nancy. As we have already established, Steve wasn’t stupid. He just didn’t care too much about school. But after Robin came out, he ended up reflecting heavily on who he was in high school. The things he laughed at, the slurs he had thrown just to fit in. So, on a day off, he drove down to Indy to go to their library, already knowing that the Hawkins library would have jackshit on queerness. He was nervous about asking for help, he never really paid attention when Nancy would tell him how the cataloguing system worked at the library, but he recognized the pink triangle pin one of the librarians had from something Robin had shown him a few weeks before. He finds what he’s looking for deep in the stacks and takes a few books to a small table tucked away in the corner and starts reading. And reading. Steve devours the books he pulled, barely noticing the growing headache or setting sun until that same librarian comes over to tell him they are closing in twenty minutes and “did you find what you were searching for?” “Yeah. Yeah I think I did.” Steve waits. He thinks. Looks back on his past relationships and wonders. He talks to Robin, but neither of them have the right words. Summer was over, his kids were in school and suddenly all they could talk about was this Eddie guy they played D&D with. Steve, despite his growing jealousy, has to admit he respects the guy a bit. Anyone who looks out for his kids is good in his book. And then spring break happens. A month later, Eddie is finally released from the hospital and Steve insists on taking him back to his house- his parents left a long time ago and made it very clear they had no plans to return. Steve checks Eddie’s stitches every day and the two start to grow closer. Love never sneaks up on Steve, it hits him all at once. Eddie had been living with him for a week when he was finally up to DMing a short game and seeing all the kids again. The house was filled with noise and laughter for the first time in years and Steve thought he couldn’t be happier. The night came to a close and the kids started heading home and suddenly it was just Eddie and Steve, sitting side by side on the couch with the debris of the night spread around them. Eddie collapsed into Steve’s side, letting out a sigh and a “god I love those kids but they are so damn loud.” And that’s when it hits him. He loves Eddie. Has for a while now, probably. And that is what was missing from all those attempted dates in high school. That’s what he had with Nancy that made it so different. What made it hurt that much more to lose. But he still didn’t have the right words. So he smiled, brushed a lock of Eddie’s hair behind his ear, and pulled him into his side. They could find the words together.

Update: wrote some ace!eddie!

#lav rambles #oh shit i don't have a writing tag #steddie #steddie ficlet #listen i didn't know where this was gonna end up #but here we are #demisexual steve #demi steve #asexuality used to just be considered the same as bisexuality #basically #so i figure demisexuality would be kinda similar #but not quite #uhhhh #eddie munson #steve harrington #platonic stobin #just a touch

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lavenderbuckyy · 11 months

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Stucky Week Day 6: Travelling/Trips

@stucky-week

Bucky stands looking over the horizon.

The amber light of the sunset settles on his dark hair. He looks so free. He looks like Steve's.

"Stay there," Steve says. "I wanna sketch you."

"But we're at the Grand Canyon."

"And I wanna draw you at the Grand Canyon. Come on, while the light is good."

"Okay, okay. How do you want me?"

"Turn around and smile for me."

Bucky does so, giving him a big smile. Steve loves how his eyes crinkle at the corners, loves his crooked front tooth. Most of all, though, he thinks he just loves Bucky.

#a little late fill!#:)#stucky #stucky drabble #stucky fanfiction #stucky fanfic #stucky fic #stevebucky #stevebucky drabble #stevebucky fanfiction #stevebucky fanfic #stevebucky fic #stucky week #stucky week 2023 #lav's writing

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lavenderleavened · 1 year

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my brain had a thought. a DCMK trans hakuba au like an au where Hakuba moves back to England for a period and transitions to being a woman. after some time she develops a scheme to come out to Schinichi, Kaito, and Heiji it would likely be a deal where they’re all invited to her estate by her father to “solve saguru’s murder” who in reality isn’t dead, she just looks a little different than before and goes by a different name I’d like to think she follows them around pretending to be a relative or friend and giving them lil hints until one of them gets it (probably kaito bc i think it would be funny if he had a “that’s so evil” moment, he would likely play along until another one of the buys gets it) also trans Hakuba wears heels, she’s tall already but it’s a power move

maybe I’ll do some art idk (i for the love of me cannot come up with a good name for her, so if you have any suggestions and feel like rebloging put them in the tags)

#Hakuba #Saguru Hakuba #Trans #Trans au #gosho boys #detective conan #magic kaito #magic kaito 1412 #some of lavs rare fan posts #dcmk #Saguru #Hakuba Saguru #dcmk au #man i've been thinking so much about this lately #it's a common thought #I just needed to post it #maybe i'll do some art #or some quick writing #anyways let me know if you like the idea

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lcvenderblues · 2 years

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six stops 🌘

It only takes six stops on the bus for Jake to become completely smitten with you (and then a seventh for him to notice).

pairing: jake lockley x gn!reader

warnings/tags: mild language, brief/vague description of mild harassment on public transportation (not main pairing), meet-cute, forced proximity, fluff, mutual pining, strangers to lovers (sort of), jake has resting bitch face, soft!jake lockley supremacy, no beta we die like harrow, mdni/18+ blanket rule!!!

wc: 3.5k

a/n: so i never thought i'd write a jake fic before finishing the follow up to indulgences, but one comment from @redahlia-writes about jake on public transport and this just sort of... spat itself out lol. i am a firm advocate for soft!jake, so please enjoy this silly little bus meet-cute-ish.

p.s. i've tried my hand at gn!reader, i apologize if it slips into any gendered language or depictions at any point!

The first time Jake sees you, it's because you have nowhere else to sit.

It's morning. He's been up all night. He's seen a lot of things, done a lot of things. He's exhausted. He's surly because he doesn't have his car, and he has to sit on this stupid, crammed, too-hot bus. He's ready to go home.

He can feel you eyeing the seat next to him warily, eyeing him warily— after all, the entire bus is packed like a can of sardines, so everyone else has left that seat open for a reason, and Jake thinks it may have something to do with his face. From what he understands, his usual expression isn't the most approachable or welcoming; which, honestly, has been pretty helpful. People usually don't bother him that way. And that's the way he likes it.

You, however, don't really get much of a choice in the matter. There isn't even a bit of room anywhere else— he's watched you check, vigorously— so you resign yourself to it, coming towards him somehow hesitant yet hurried at the same time, trying to get a seat before the bus starts moving again and you get hurled into the sea of seats and people.

He watches you sit down at the very edge, putting as much space as you possibly can between the two of you without completely falling off your seat. You glance up at him nervously, meeting his eyes, and when he watches you practically freeze under his gaze, he finds himself feeling three things at once.

First, part of him wants to laugh. He can't help but find it funny that the same body that has people jostling it around, practically pushing it over when Steven inhabits it, receives this kind of reaction when he fronts, simply by the way he holds himself, moves his muscles.

Second, he feels a mix of relief and satisfaction. He's tired, and he hadn't counted on having to sit next to anyone. At the very least, he knows he won't have to worry about you planning on bothering him. He's not sure he'd have the energy, or the patience to deal with that.

Lastly, he feels... guilt. You've done nothing to him. You're just there for a ride from one place to another, same as him. And you look just as thrilled at the prospect of sitting next to him as he is. He thinks of what it'd be like if you caught the bus any other day, with Steven or Marc on it, instead. Steven would probably be thrilled to sit next to you, as opposed to someone else who might stick their bony elbows in his sides or pile their belongings on his side of the seat— or, he'd just be sleeping. Marc would keep to himself, but he'd still be polite and lean towards the other side, give you some extra room. The very least Jake can do is try not to make you fear for your life for your entire morning commute.

So, he smiles at you. At least, he tries to.

He has a feeling it comes out awkward and uncomfortable— He knows how to do a sinister grin, or something smug and charming (that one usually works well on the ladies), but he doesn't feel like either of those would help him much, here. He's not used to politely smiling at strangers on public transport. But, he tries, for you.

Whatever his face does, it works, somewhat. You return the smile, very quick, still nervous, and equally awkward, before you're hurriedly looking away, but you've scooted up the seat so you're not about fly off if the bus makes a sharp corner. And he watches some of the tension leave your body as you relax against the backrest a little.

He turns away, leans his head back, and closes his eyes. There. He's done his dues, and is free to ignore you for the rest of the trip, guiltlessly.

And he does, for a good several minutes, until the bus turns a sharp corner and lurches you right into him, despite the generous amount of space in between the both of you.

There's a chorus of groans and grumbling from the other passengers, who, by all accounts, fared a lot worse. But you had the singular luck of smashing into him, who nobody else dared sit next to; whose eyes you could barely meet, just a few minutes ago. And now, you're scrambling off of him, looking up at him, absolutely mortified.

"I'm so sorry!" You blurt, in spite of your total lack of control over the bus's movements, and pause for a moment before repeating yourself about a thousand times over. The tension is back with a vengeance; Your mouth is a fountain of apologies and your body is a stiff, rigid line bracing itself for his response, though it's almost like you're determined not to let him, as he can barely get a word in.

Any irritation he'd felt wasn't directed at you to begin with— though, he had several choice words for the driver— but even if it had been, he's sure it would have all melted away the moment he saw the look on your face, heard your profuse apologies. Something strange tugs at his chest, and he's suddenly struck with the notion that, he doesn't actually want you to be afraid of him.

"—Hey, it's alright." It takes a bit before you finally let him butt in to speak; and when he does, you're still looking at him nervously. "Not your fault, cariño."

The pet name slips out on accident; just some subconscious effort to get that look off your face and you to stop apologizing before you turn blue. But he's not anticipating the way your eyes go a little wide, and your shoulders fall slightly, and your whole body seems to draw downwards, like you've melted a little bit.

You avert your eyes again— shy, this time. Not scared.

Oh.

He's usually a bit smoother with this kind of thing; and it's usually intentional. Still, he feels an odd warmth thinking about the fact that, in spite of the very rocky beginning, he managed to fluster you without even trying; and the way that, though you won't look at him, you still sit a little closer than before.

You meet his eyes once more during your trip— well, he catches you staring. You look back at your lap again just as quickly, and nervously start to pick at a thread on your pants. But your back is relaxed, not rigid.

Your stop comes not long after. You get back up to leave, and share another quick, awkward smile, before you're back down the aisle and out the door. Jake sits alone, again, for the rest of the way home— and finds he didn't really mind sharing the bench. Not with you.

***

The second time Jake sees you, you're sitting elsewhere.

The bus is less full, this time. It'd be odd to come up and sit next to a stranger when there's a bunch of other seats available. But he can't deny there's a tiny twinge of disappointment in his chest.

You're a few rows ahead, you probably didn't even see him. Or so he reasons with himself; Because he'd like to think that if you had, you'd have given him another awkward smile before taking your seat. Maybe a seat a little closer to him, than where you're currently sitting.

The man that approaches you must not have gotten the memo, though, about sitting next to strangers when there's other available seats, because Jake watches him plop down on the one right next to you, and begin to chat you up. He can't hear the conversation, from here, but he doesn't need to— he can see the way your body goes rigid, the tense line of your neck, the way you're shuffling closer and closer to the window, further and further away from him.

As soon as the bus stops moving, he doesn't need to think twice before he's getting up, and making his way over to your bench, with his best "I will kill you" face.

You see him first— and draw the man's attention to Jake and his murderous expression. Something that could only be called sheer terror fills his face, and he seems frozen in place. For a moment, Jake worries you might react the same way, thinking you're out of the frying pan and into the fire; that you'll look at him with that terrified look like you did when you first approached his seat that other day.

But you're looking up at Jake like he's your very own guardian angel, with those same eyes you gave him when he called you cariño last time. Nobody's ever looked at him like that before, and he thinks he could get used to it.

Jake could yank the man out of his seat, curse him out in Spanish. Lord knows, he wants to. But he doesn't want to make an unnecessary scene or invoke the ire of the bus driver, not in front of you. He settles for giving the man a very pointed look and a gesture at his seat, which seems to shake him out of his paralysis. The man glances between him, and you, and back to him, and promptly takes off, practically running.

Jake takes his place beside you, then, trying to keep a respectful distance, and to look a little less homicidal. He still sits close; but you don't seem to mind.

You're still looking at him like that, and he thinks he might get shy and start blushing, if you keep it up.

"Thank you," you say, sincerely. You offer your name, and your hand.

He takes both. Your skin is soft against his, and gives him that peculiar warm feeling in his chest again, as he holds your hand carefully in his own, shaking it once. "Jake," he murmurs. "Es de nada."

The smile you give him when you let go is warm this time, not awkward. He's pretty sure the one he returns is still a little more of the latter, but it's okay. You don't mind that, either.

You continue on in silence for a few more minutes, and he steals glances at you; afraid you might catch him staring this time. You do, once— but you just give him another smile and look away again.

He thinks of nothing more for the rest of the trip, rolling the syllables of your name over his mind, the way you looked up at him burned onto the back of his eyelids.

***

The third time Jake sees you, it's late, and the bus is empty, save for the both of you. You come and sit right next to him, this time without hesitation.

This time, you look exhausted— practically asleep on your feet. But you perk up little— a lot— when you see him, and you smile, and even greet him properly. It makes the warm feeling flare up in his chest once more.

"Hi," you say softly, plopping down beside him. You don't bother to keep a 'respectful' distance.

"Hi," he says back.

A pause. "It's sure packed in here."

This is... new. You're making conversation. He supposes, on an empty bus, you wouldn't have picked the seat right next to him just to sit in silence the whole way. Once his brain catches up to your joke, he gives an amused little exhale. "Yeah, it sure is."

Another pause. He supposes maybe he should try to make some conversation, too. "What are you out so late for?"

Your eyes roll a little. "Work party, thing." You don't seem to be too torn up about leaving. "Just glad it's over." The warmth comes back to your face, your eyes, when you look at him again. "You?"

Ah, shit.

He clears his throat a little. "Work stuff, too. Not a party, though." He sees your face shift to intrigue, alarm bells go off in his head, and he does his best to steer the conversation elsewhere. "What do you do?"

"I'm a librarian," you tell him. It suits you, he thinks. He can picture you putting books away on shelves, giving people recommendations, scanning them out for them. It's a sweet image. He wonders where you work; could Steven have seen you, or even met you at some point, and it just slipped Jake's notice? Something twinges inside him at the thought. "How about you?"

He should have known that question was coming; he set himself right up for it. What to tell you? "...Personal assistant," he settles on. "Sort of. A lot of odd jobs for this old rich guy." He doesn't look around, but he's willing to bet that if he did, he'd see the god somewhere giving him a death glare right now. He just prays you don't press much further.

"Oh." You nod, either satisfied with the answer, too tired to ask any further, or wholly uninterested. Whatever the case, he heaves a mental sigh of relief. "A businessman," you add after a moment, with a yawn that you cover with your fist.

He chuckles a little bit, to himself. "You could say that."

"Well, you've got the face for it," you say. He blinks blankly at you for several moments.

"...'Cause you... look like you mean business..." You elaborate hesitantly, and begin to snicker.

He doesn't quite understand your sleep-addled humor so much as he likes the sound of your laugh. And, he supposes it's a relief that you think of his lethal expression as something funny as opposed to something to be feared. And, maybe it's just so ridiculous it's a little bit funny. Whatever way, he can't help but laugh with you.

It takes him a little to notice that your laugh's died out, and you've fallen silent. He glances back at you to see you watching him with those wide eyes again, soft smile on your face. Your eyes fall to your lap quickly when you realize you've been caught, but the smile remains. You give another small laugh, like you're trying to brush off the moment. "Thought you wanted to bite my head off, that first day. You looked like you did," you say.

That makes his face fall a bit, and the warm feeling in his chest seems to crumple a little, in spite of the lighthearted way you said it. "I'm sorry," he says, soberly. "It was a..."

"Rough day?" You fill in for him.

He nods. "Yeah."

You smile generously. "It's okay. We all have those. All's well that ends well." You say the last bit with another glint of humor, an inside joke you're both in on. Your mouth falls open in a yawn once more.

"You're tired," he says. The observation isn't groundbreaking so much as his concern is; especially to him.

You wave it off. "Just a long day."

Well, you definitely handle those better than he does. "I shouldn't keep you up," he protests, still, like he's the only thing standing between you and getting some rest; like you weren't the one who came and sat down next to him and started the conversation, to begin with.

"You aren't," you insist, rubbing at your tired eyes, pulling slightly at your face. "Besides, I need to stay up. Can't fall asleep on the bus. I'll miss my stop."

The offer is out of his mouth before he's even really thought about it. "You can. I'll wake you."

You stop and look at him, eyes a little wider, tentative. "Really?"

Maybe it was a little forward of him. He wouldn't trust just any stranger enough to sleep beside them and rely on them to wake him up. He's not just a stranger to you anymore, though. (Or so, he hopes.) So, he nods in response.

You pause for a moment. "...Then I'll miss talking to you."

The weird, warm feeling in his chest is back again. You'd miss talking to him. This is the most— actually, the only time you've really spoken thus far. Truth be told, he does like talking to you, too. But Jake isn't good at small talk. It's difficult for him; Most of his life isn't meant for your ears. And you keep yawning, and your eyelids look so heavy. He can practically feel the exhaustion radiating off of you. It's a feeling he knows all too well himself.

"It's okay," he placates. "Just get some rest, cariño."

You gaze at him a moment longer, the warm, soft look he's come to expect when he calls you by that name. And then you're gently laying your head on his shoulder, and closing your eyes.

His mind blanks for a moment. You're warm, and soft. You smell like fresh laundry. And you're resting your head on his shoulder to sleep.

When his thoughts return to him, he feels a sudden surge of duty. He doesn't think he's ever had a greater honor bestowed upon him than your trust. Forget being the avatar of an ancient Egyptian deity, being your personal travel pillow and alarm clock is the most important thing he's ever done in his entire godforsaken life.

He can hear his inner cynic, or maybe it's just the moon god himself— calling this a distraction, reminding him that he has no room in his mind, or his life, for something like this. Someone like you. That, if you could see the blood on his hands, you'd run.

They're things he already knows well. But just for this moment, they don't matter. They're not true. How could they be, when your frame fits so perfectly lying against his? When it feels like this to have you close?

He keeps watch over you as your breathing evens, glares at the bus driver for all the harsh breaks and sharp turns, glares out the window at the potholes, though you never stir. (He'd drive his limo so carefully, if he had you sleeping in the passenger seat, he thinks.) He keeps an eye on the door, but nobody else ever boards. It's just the two of you, the whole way down.

It's over far too soon. He's already missing the weight of you leaning against him when he gently lays a hand on your knee, nudging you awake. "Your stop, cariño."

You open bleary eyes and pull away from him regretfully; and maybe it soothes him just a little that you look as loathe to leave him as he is to watch you go.

You stand and hold his gaze for a few more moments. "Thank you," you say drowsily, a sleepy smile on your face. The bus won't wait forever, though. You turn at last and make towards the front door.

You've only made it about halfway up the aisle, when you freeze, spin on your heel, and hurry back to stand in front of him.

He fixes you with a puzzled gaze, which you don't see; you're rifling through your bag frantically for... something. You pull out a folded, slightly scrunched piece of paper, and hold it out to him.

"I... wanted you to have it," you say, a little flustered.

It's your phone number, scrawled out under your name. You wrote it out in advance, to give to him. The warm feeling in his chest flares hot, and he knows in that instant, that even if he never calls it, he'll keep it forever, guard that piece of paper with his life, treasure it as long as he lives.

You're still looking at him like you have something more to say; like you're working up the courage for it. He waits with bated breath.

It's awkward and a little messy and rushed, and you have to rest your hands on the seat as you lean over to keep your balance, but you lean in, and press a kiss against his cheek.

Your lips are a lightning strike directly to his heart. The warm feeling cracks, bursts, spreads through his whole body.

You get shy again, after you pull back. You give him a little wave and then you're scurrying off, apologizing effusively to the disgruntled bus driver who's grumbling about how he doesn't have all night. If he grumbles from the moment you step off, all the way until Jake finally gets off at his own stop, he doesn't even notice. He's too preoccupied with the piece of paper he's tucked carefully in his pocket, sticking his hand in and checking to make sure it's still there every so often.

***

The bus is cramped, and full the next morning, again. Someone— a stranger— takes the seat beside him with little fuss, and doesn't look terrified. He's puzzled.

It's only when he catches his reflection in the window as he idly thumbs the piece of paper still tucked in his pocket, he realizes— he's smiling.

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley fanfiction #jake lockley fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #jake lockley #moon knight #lav's writing

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nctstar · 1 month

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saw this on insta and thought it was pretty funny 😂 you guys know I love a little subverting expectations, plot twist, vibe switcharoo moment...some of these look so fun too 😂

#lav speaks!#writing prompts

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agentplutonium · 6 months

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I got silly goofy again with more NeXus characters. Anyway: Cher & Sherlock character study that got away from me and ended up being just over 2500 words

(the fic can also be found on ao3)

The clock ticked on the wall. There was the occasional shout of laughter from outside the apartment. Cher sat at the table, shoulders rigid, fingers tapping the wood beneath them impatiently. The wood was smooth under their arm, the back of the chair digging into their shoulder blades. They wanted to keep moving. They wanted out of here. They wanted to keep everyone safe.

Cher was dropped off at Alonzo’s and his partner’s place to be babysat, despite what Uriah told them. He said it was for their safety but they felt Uriah didn’t trust them, or that he thought they couldn’t take care of themselves. It was humiliating. Not to mention this was probably putting the lovers out of their way just to be there with them. They did not want to do that to them. Cher was not worth the amount of effort the two vampires were putting into them.

Suddenly, a mug was placed before them, snapping Cher out of their thoughts. Owl, what Cher has taken to calling Alonzo’s partner, took the seat across from them, a matching mug in their hands. They were silent, not looking at Cher. Their fingers stopped tapping. They couldn’t help but analyze the situation, Owl’s body language, the way they kept their eyes on the mug in their hands, the mug that was left suspended between the two of them. But Owl just fucking sat there.

The silence lasted for a few more moments

“It’s just hot chocolate, I’m not trying to kill you,” Owl said, those piercing eyes finally glancing at them. “Thought you might like something to do than just sitting here.”

“Where’s that boyfriend of yours,” Cher asked.

Owl opened their mouth, presumably to quip back, but stopped themselves. “Sleeping. He’s running himself ragged over this case.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Cher knew that the case Alonzo was running after was connected to them and the magical world. It was dangerous to have him this close. Cher knew that. Uriah knew it. And they were sure Owl knew it too.

“I do what I can,” Owl said with a shrug. They took a sip out of their mug before continuing. “I keep him safe. That’s all I need. But, I came in here to check on you. Not Alonzo.”

“I don’t need to be checked on-”

“I’d beg to differ,” Owl cut them off, leaning forward and resting their elbows on the table. “You’re in a bad situation, in a stranger's house, being watched like you are some flight risk. You sat at this kitchen table the whole time because you couldn’t bring yourself to sit in the living room,” they started counting on their fingers as they continued, to prove their point, “You haven’t asked for food, or water, or even for the damn bathroom. And you’re doing this to yourself because you feel like if you get too comfortable it would put us in danger. That it would undermine the struggle and pain you put yourself and your pack through just to keep them safe. You’re ready to fight, to run, if the moment calls for it.”

The air was still between them. Cher was stunned silent, and Owl was still looking at them. How those eyes of theirs were natural would be beyond them. There was the smallest smirk on Owl’s face. A self-assured, cocky smile, as if they knew they were right before they even spoke.

“Am I close?” Owl asked, voice dipping quieter.

Cher didn’t say anything, but they did drag the steaming mug toward them.

“That’s what I thought,” Owl said, smiling.

“You’re not getting anything out of me,” Cher warned.

“Never said I wanted to,” Owl said. “However, I took the risk of assuming you wouldn’t mind some company.”

“I like being alone.”

Owl scoffed into their drink, “Sure, Cheri.”

“What is that for,” Cher demanded.

“Nothing, nothing,” Owl said, holding their hands up, “pardon me if I think that a wolf likes being alone is a little absurd.”

“It’s not uncommon.”

“I guess not. But seeing you interact with Zachary, coupled with the fact that I know you have a pack, tells me otherwise. You are a protector, Cheri, whether you like it or not.”

Cher huffed, rolling their eyes. “Say what you want. This was needed.”

“Of course it was. Someone came after you, and you didn’t want the pack getting hurt. You haven’t stopped since Washington, and I’m assuming you’re not all too pleased about how long you’ve spent here.”

“What do you know,” Cher said, annoyed.

“More than you give me credit for,” Owl shrugged, but still there was an edge to their tone and Cher could tell that Owl didn’t like their experience undermined. “When will you start accepting that we can hold our own around here?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Owl said, sipping at their drink.

“What do you mean by that?” Cher asked, painfully clutching the mug, warmth seeping deeper into their bones.

“I mean,” Owl drawled, as if explaining it to a child, fingers messing with the rim of their cup in a bored manner, “Uriah would never have harboured you if he thought you were a genuine threat, no matter how much he says he doesn’t trust you. Whether that be you or whatever storm you’re dragging along with you.”

Cher didn’t answer, curling in on themselves. They still didn’t like being here, especially now that Owl was reading them like an open book. Was this just something that vampires could do? Or were Uriah and Owl special?

Owl sighed, relaxing back in their chair. “Listen, I’m not here to interrogate you,” they said. “I just want to talk.”

“We are talking,” Cher snipped.

“Normal talking,” Owl clarified. “Small talk.”

“Why do you want to talk with me?” Cher asked.

“Honestly? Cause you’re interesting,” Owl said genuinely. “You’re a puzzle that I can’t quite figure out. I want to know what makes you tick, Cheri.”

Cher’s mind flashed through the worst outcomes of this situation. Owl could use this against them, or get something about their pack out of them, putting them in danger. Cher wouldn’t be able to stop them from here if they were to put something together. But, a smaller part of Cher’s brain chastised them for it. What was Owl going to do? They were with Uriah, and he was proving himself to be trustworthy. If something was to go wrong, it wouldn’t be because of them.

Cher took a deep breath, “What do you want to know?”

Owl sat there for a moment, staring at the drink in their hands. “You miss home?”

Cher almost changed the subject. However, their silence drew Owl’s eyes again, and they couldn’t stay quiet with the curiosity that burned behind them. Maybe they understood why Alonzo fell in love with them.

“Greatly,” Cher whispered, “every damn day I’m gone.”

“What do you miss most?”

“My pack.”

Owl chuckled, “Naturally. I don’t know why I asked that. You got a big one?”

Cher shrugged. “One could say that, sure. I never really keep track. We’re already a few generations deep.”

“Damn, that must be hard to manage,” Owl commented.

“It is what it is,” Cher sighed, “most of them aren’t old enough to participate in the logistical side of things.”

“And I thought Zach was a handful,” Owl commented, taking a moment to take a sip of their drink.

“Do you consider him a child?” Cher asked.

“In some ways,” Owl said. “He isn’t terribly young in human years, but he is new to vampirism. I can have adult conversations with him and then have to scold him for something stupid five seconds later.”

Cher chuckled, “Fuck, don’t I know what that’s like.”

“You got ones like that?”

“More than I can count,” Cher groaned. “Love them all to death, but I question how any of them are still alive.”

“I get that.”

“You have anyone other than Zach and Uriah?” Cher asked.

“Lump Alonzo into that group and that’s all I got, in some ways,” Owl shrugged, “the rest of the people I know I wouldn’t consider family the way I do them.”

“You’ve built a nice life with them, huh,” Cher commented, not unkindly.

“I sure have.”

Cher could relate, but they didn’t say that out loud. Owl didn’t need to know their connection to their pack ran that deep. It was bad enough they knew as much as they did.

“Do you want to see some pictures?”

“Pictures?” Cher repeated, confused.

“Of me and Uriah from earlier in our lives,” Owl clarified, “I can let you look through the old photo albums while I update the current one.”

They would let Cher do that? Look at something that, they’d assume, was important to Owl? To them all? One part of Cher felt like they were overstepping something. But, how could they when they were invited to do so? Was it an invitation, or a test? Could they-

“I see smoke coming out of your ears, Cheri,” Owl teased with a chuckle. “I’m asking you if you would like to. This isn’t something you need to overthink. Just a simple yes or no will do.”

“I would like to,” Cher responded, surprising themself.

Owl smiled genuinely. “That’s what I thought. Come with me,” they stood from the table, grabbing their mug before making their way out of the kitchen. Cher hesitated for a moment before following suit.

Owl had placed a few coasters on a side table beside the couch before moving across the room to a fairly full bookshelf. “Feel free to sit anywhere,” they said over their shoulder, fingers running along the spines of the albums.

Cher looked around for a second, taking in their surroundings. There was a couch and a few armchairs that encircled a small coffee table, end tables between the pieces of furniture. Cher hesitantly perched at the edge of the couch, on the side closest to the preset coasters. If anyone looked at them they were sure they’d see the tension that was currently residing in their whole body. However, they didn’t get to think about that much, as Owl was already turning around with two albums and a small decorative box in their hands.

“This one is one of my oldest,” Owl said, holding out the more tattered album. “It’s from a couple of decades ago. It’s not the oldest, but we sure were different people back then. Younger. More naive.”

“More naive?” Cher asked, placing their mug down to take the book from Owl.

“Mhm,” Owl hummed. “You never really stop growing, even as vampires. You learn and experience things you never would have if you were human. Gives you an ongoing update on how you view life around you.”

“How old are you guys?” Cher asked.

“Aw, come on now, Cheri, it’s rude to ask people their age,” Owl teased.

Owl turned back to what they were doing, leaving Cher to slowly flip through the book open on their lap. They saw countless pictures of Owl and Uriah in different locations, smiling their widest and looking happy. The descriptions beneath each gave context as to what was going on. There were a few where one was not as happy as the other, in the wake of a prank that was less than pleasant. Seeing the two of them like this made Cher’s heart squeeze. They missed their family.

They got to a picture of Uriah, his back to the camera, at the edge of a lake. The description didn’t give much away, just revealing when the picture was taken, and Cher turned the book around to show Owl.

“What was going on here?” Cher asked, tapping the picture.

Owl glanced up from their work, smiling when they recognized what they were looking at. “There’s a whole story behind that picture,” they said. “You wanna hear?”

Cher nodded, placing the book back on their lap to pay attention.

That’s how they spent the rest of their night. Listening to Owl tell these stories, fuelled by the pictures that Cher would point out. The silence was comfortable between them in between stories as Owl worked and Cher browsed the pictures. The two of them continue to share drinks, and laughs, and Cher would even offer the occasional story about their pack.

This was comfortable, Cher realized, not sure if they were more spooked or surprised by the fact. Owl genuinely did seem to want to get to know them, despite knowing the time that they would share would be temporary. Cher wondered if Owl felt the same way, or if it was different for them.

Later in the night, when the album updating was done, Cher found themselves relaxed on the couch, enjoying the conversation that they were having with Owl. It had been hours since Uriah dropped them off, but they were okay with that. They liked being with Owl. They were nice and seemed to sense when they were getting skittish about a topic, changing the subject soon after. Cher felt like if they met under different circumstances they would have been fast friends.

There was a noise behind them and Cher tensed immediately, spinning around. Uriah stood behind them, as if he was there the whole time. Cher let out a breath, scowling at the man. “Do you not knock?” they scolded.

“This house is just as much mine as it is theirs,” Uriah said.

“You knew who you left with me, Ry,” Owl commented, the slightest edge to their voice. Cher didn’t expect the vampire to stick up for them. “It is good manners to knock.”

Uriah didn’t answer them, turning back to Cher. “Let’s go,” they said, “we need to get back.”

Cher almost talked back, but stopped themselves, biting their tongue harshly. They got up without a word, brushing past her on their way to the door.

“I will see you later,” Uriah said to Owl.

“Uriah,” Owl stopped him. Their voice dipped quieter as they continued, but Cher could still hear them. “They’re a good person, Uriah. I promise you.”

“I know that,” Uriah said.

“I’m just saying. I know how skittish you’ve been around them. Treating them like a loaded gun.”

“Would you disagree?”

“Yes.”

Cher paused, caught off guard by the sincerity behind the vampire’s voice. Did they mean that?

Uriah was also quiet for a few moments, and Cher believed there was some kind of silent conversation going on between them. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” Owl promised. “Just… just get to know them. You’ll see. You know they won't hurt us already, but they aren’t as dangerous as you make them out to be.”

“I’ll see what happens.”

There was a soft sigh from Owl, and then they said, “Thank you. Have a safe trip, Uriah.”

“I will.”

Uriah was beside them a few moments later, and he seemed to be a bit more relaxed. Uriah opened the door, stepping aside and motioning for them to go through. “After you, mon cheri.”

Cher ducked their head as they passed by, face heating up at Uriah’s eyes boring into them.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Uriah asked when they were alone.

“Something like that,” Cher replied, not looking at him.

#NeXus #nexus fanfiction #plutonium_fanfiction #ask anyone in the server this took me SO LONG to write #it’s actually a crime how long it took #but also it got done for Lav’s birthday and honestly? counting that as a win and if anyone asks it was in purpose /j #i think i know how to write my own listeners now which is good and was in fact the goal of this exercise #but there’s something about it that imma refrain from commenting on until i sleep on it for a few days

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lavandavanda · 8 months

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I love you too: (Roronoa Zoro x fem!leitora)

Genre: fluffy

Author's note: I watched a little of the anime but I watched all of the live action 💜💜💜 english is not my first language, kisses latinos 😘

Word count: 334

Masterlist Navigation

“Something is happening” Sanji frowned at his crewmates. Sanji Nami and Usopp were just organizing food to be taken to the kitchen when Sanji saw Zoro. Zoro smiling.

“What?” Usopp asks and Nami looks at Zoro too.

“Zoro is… different” She says.

“Different because of her” Sanji looks at you, who is next to Zoro.

“He looks normal to me” Usopp says.

“Could he like her?” Nami questions.

Zoro, as if he was listening to their conversation, rolls his eyes at you and walks away angrily.

“Oh no” You look sad and Nami abandons what she was doing to come to you

“It doesn’t seem like he likes her!” Usopp exclaims.

“If he doesn’t like her he’s an idiot. She is perfect” Sanji says and walks to you.

“I'm absolutely fine Nami!” You say and she's not very convinced.

“Really?”

“Thank you for supporting me but i am fine. And i need to go. Luffy was calling me” You smiled and walked away.

“Something is wrong,” Nami sighed.

—------🪻------—

“Stop being so strange” Zoro said to you and you groaned. You should have been working but you got distracted.

“You are strange!” You exclaim.

“So annoying”

“You are ugly”

“You are crazy”

“I hate you!” You said and he got serious. Then he laughed.

“If I wasn’t married to you for so many years I’d believe you. I love you too.”

“WHAT?!” Nami exclaims.

“Nothing!” You respond alarmed and Zoro sigh.

“I heard you very well, you are married!”

“Don't tell anyone. It's not your secret” Your husband says and you tapped him on the shoulder.

“It's a secret we've kept for many years, we were waiting for the right moment to tell everyone. We don't want to keep secrets anymore, we just want to be together. We pretend we don't know each other for safety but i really love him and he really loves me too”

“Yes i really love you too” Zoro kisses your forehead.

“You guys need to tell everyone NOW!”

#One piece x reader #Zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x y/n #zoro #one piece #X reader #X female reader #Op x reader #Opla x reader #Lav writes 🪻

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transsextual · 11 months

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untitled, elle emerson (@transsextual)

[text id: my baby and i couldn't be happy with just these human bodies. i'm her boy & her puppy & it's right because have you ever seen a truer expression of joy than that of a puppy who has done nothing all day but sleep and wait when his person walks in the door? not many things more eager, more honest, than that kind of love. and truly i'm clumsy and nervous and i take silly things too far. even now i expect to be punished for my wildness in at least some small way. she's training me out of all that hurt. "no more sleeping on the floor, baby" she says. & every night i get next to her is the best one yet. i can't always say it as well as i'd like, but in my heart i'll be wagging up a storm, & i know she sees it when she tells me hello like i'm brand new, even though we've been in love for ages.]

#i miss my lady so much these days. summers are so long & she works full time so we got to see each other once for these whole four months #she lives in my heart & i live in hers but theres nothing like really being hear her.#& to distract myself from that infinitely large lack . im telling you all about how much i love her #because my God if i can't love her how i'd like to then i'll make sure Everybody knows i'd like to #speak #writes #lav #*near her . not hear her. tho i do love when she speaks or makes noises at me

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maxcuntstappen · 6 months

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Day 1 of Lav's Ficmas <3

8 Tips to Meet and Greet Your Boyfriend's Cats for the First Time [3k]

Relationship: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen

Tags: Tooth Rotting Fluff, Happy, Cat Dad Max, Established Relationship

Summary:

Max laughs before looking at Sassy again, “You need to look at her, Charles. She looks so cute. She’s just sitting there, watching us, tilting her head.”

Charles wants to look at that so bad, wants to see how adorable Sassy must be looking but..

“I can’t. I don’t want to stare at her and scare her off.”

“There’s a difference between staring and looking though, baby.”

“I know but I can’t risk it.”

“Can’t risk what?”

“Her being scared of me or not liking me.”

OR:

Charles meets Jimmy and Sassy for the first time and attempts to do everything by the book, maybe not always for the best.

Read on Ao3

#a newish kind of format for me and i loved it so much #i love writing pet fics #max verstappen #charles leclerc #f1 rpf #lestappen #lestappen au #my fic #f1 fic #lav's ficmas 23

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greenieflor · 1 year

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@shapeofaperson mentioned wanting ace!eddie on my demisexual!steve post, so here we are! enjoy this mess of fluff and projection <3 update: now on ao3!

Eddie had always liked the roof of the trailer. He and Wayne had pulled a little couch and a chair outside a while ago, a nice spot to sit and smoke after Eddie got home and before Wayne went off to work. But the roof let Eddie stretch out and see the stars. He felt closer to them up there, like the little bit of elevation put them within his reach. As he climbed up, Eddie traced his eyes across the constellations, looking for Orion to situate himself. It had been a while since it was a clear enough night for him to properly see the stars, and even though Hawkins was a small town the light pollution obscured some of his favorite stars from when he was a kid and Wayne first showed him the constellations.

Eddie makes it to the roof and squats down, reaching out a hand for Steve to pull himself up with. The two sit side by side, legs hanging off the side and arms stretched out behind them for support. Eddie produces a joint from his vest pocket with a flourish and an eye waggle, causing Steve to burst out in laughter.

The two settle back into comfortable silence, passing the joint between them. As Eddie’s head starts to get a little floaty he starts pointing out constellations to Steve, tracing the invisible lines with the joint between his fingers. He looks over to Steve, his hazel green eyes glinting in the dark. They stay like that for a moment, eyes locked on each other, Eddie’s outstretched hand still pointing at the tail of scorpio. Steve’s eyebrow quirks up and a small smile stretches across his face. “You just gonna let that burn down?” He says, voice barely above a whisper so as to not break the little bubble they created together.

“Oh, I…” Eddie starts, but before he can pull his hand down he feels Steve’s fingers wrap around his wrist and his skin lights up at the touch. Steve bring’s Eddie’s hand down, angling it just right so he can lean forward and wrap his lips around the end of the joint. Despite what is likely an incredibly erotic image, Eddie can’t seem to look away from Steve’s eyes. Honey brown mixing with soft green, growing red and glassy as the night wears on.

“I am so gone,” Steve half laughs as he exhales, smoke billowing out into the starlight. He gives Eddie’s wrist a light squeeze before releasing it and settling back onto his elbows. “Ask me anything,” he sighs, “anything at all.”

Eddie tears his gaze away from Steve’s face as they make eye contact again, bringing the roach up to his mouth to take the final hit. Eddie’s head is swimming, and only partially from the weed. He tries to think of something, anything to ask other than the one question burning at the tip of his tongue. Some joke or stupid quip to lighten the mood, cut through some of the tension he suddenly felt building up in his chest. Steve was looking at him. He could feel those too-perfect eyes on his face, no heat or pressure to it, almost as if Steve was looking at him just to appreciate his form. Eddie flicks the roach off the roof with a shaky sigh and before he can stop himself he’s asking, “what’s it like?” He waits a beat, turning to see the slightly confused look growing on Steve’s face. “Uh, sex. I mean. What’s…sex like?”

Eddie watches the realization hit Steve. The way his eyes widen, his mouth opens into a soft “oh”. If you had told Eddie five months ago that he would be laying on his roof, smoking out Steve Harrington, the whore of Hawkins High, and asking him about sex he would have laughed in your face and sent you to sober up. But the two had grown closer than he ever thought they would. Between Nancy and Robin helping him to finally graduate and practically co-parenting Dustin and, by extension, the rest of the party, Eddie and Steve had spent a surprising amount of time together and, perhaps more surprisingly, Eddie truly enjoyed it. He wouldn’t trade these nights smoking with Steve for just about anything. Maybe that’s why he asks. Maybe he thinks it’ll lead to something else so he can finally just get it over with. He’ll never be certain, and even if he is he will never tell.

“Honestly?” Steve starts, pushing himself up to sit facing Eddie. “It’s kinda boring most of the time. You’ve really never…” he trails off, but there’s no judgment in his voice, no hint of coming shame. Eddie pulls himself up to match Steve, their knees brushing. He keeps his eyes locked on his fingers, watching the way his rings glint as he spins them around and around. Eddie shakes his head, taking a beat to breathe before looking back up at those eyes. Even in the dark they have a warmth Eddie has yet to find anywhere else. “Not a huge selection for me in Hawkins,” he tries for a joke and self deprecating laugh. “Plus I never really… yanno. Wanted to or whatever.”

Steve nods, smiling to himself as if he does know exactly what Eddie is talking about. “I uh, I only really did it cause it felt like I was supposed to. For a while at least. I’m fine, never did anything I was uncomfortable with,” he adds quickly, seeing Eddie’s expression grow concerned. “But yeah, I never really got the appeal. Just sorta seemed like something to check off the list. Well, except with Nance, but that was… different. For a lot of reasons.”

Eddie was staring. He didn’t even try to hide it at this point. “I.. that’s uh…” he stammered, not quite sure what he wanted to say.

Steve smiled, still that same soft, knowing smile. “I can send you a few things to read, if you want. But… if you’re worried about being broken or, or wrong because you don’t want sex,” he paused, eyes searching Eddie’s for permission to keep going. “You’re not. I can promise you that.” Steve reached out, hand falling to rest on Eddie’s knee and giving it a gentle squeeze before a shit eating grin broke across his face. “I mean you’re still weird, you’ve got that whole bone collection thing that I’ll never understand-“

Eddie cuts him off with a laugh, tilting his head and blinking back the tears threatening to spill over.

“But with this? You’re no weirder than me Eds.” Steve gave his knee another squeeze before moving back towards the ladder. "C'mon, my ass hurts and it's getting cold out here. Let's go back inside."

Eddie smiled, not quite able to believe the man in front of him, but not willing to give up a single second with him.

#lav rambles #the plant scribbles #<- new writing tag hehe #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrignton #steddie ficlet #ace eddie munson #demisexual steve harrington #im obsessed with these two like actually #this one is modern au cause i said so #steve is gonna send eddie soooooo many ace resources

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